Infamous Like Us (Like Us 10)

“It’s for you,” I whisper.

“Don’t die for me,” she chokes out.

Banks and I share a smile, and he’s the one who says, “I couldn’t think of a better person to die for.”

“Lady Meadows,” I finish.

She snorts into a small, rising smile and her marshmallow catches on fire. She lets it solidly char.

Banks breaks apart chocolate squares, then sees the flames. “You’re gonna need to blow that one, mermaid.”

My lips rise. “I’ve heard that before.”

Sulli elbows me softly. “Because you’re usually the one saying it, Kits.” She ends up resting her head on my bicep. I kiss her lips.

She kisses gently back and concentrates on her marshmallow. I think she’s finally letting go of tonight’s mayhem.

Good.

Really good.

I exhale a breath.

“Cumbuckets,” Sulli mutters after she blows off a flaming marshmallow. It’s charred. Unrecognizable.

“Told ya,” Banks says and hands her the marshmallow bag.

“I like it crispy, though.” Sulli appraises the singe, then grabs another stick with a fresh marshmallow. “The challenge is getting the perfect crispiness without it being a fucking hockey puck of ash.” Her face goes into full-determination mode. “I’ll get it this time.”

I smile. It’s nice seeing Sulli focused on something other than swimming or our rising popularity. These days, that’s not often. For any of us, really.

My phone rings.

I groan.

“Who is it?” Sulli asks.

I don’t even have to look. “My mom. She’s been calling all day.”

Sulli frowns deeply. “You’ve ignored her calls?”

“I’ve been on-duty all day.” Luna was in class at Penn, and I couldn’t dip out of the lecture to answer my mom’s call. I realize though, that I’ve been at the penthouse for at least an hour…maybe two.

And I’ve been off-duty in that time.

Not to sound like a dick, I add, “I texted her that I was busy.”

Banks licks chocolate off his thumb, then nods to me. “Answer it.”

Truth is that I’m not looking forward to what she has to say. It’s been months since we’ve had a real conversation. And that talk wasn’t productive or helpful. We went in circles. Mostly with her blaming me for not telling her about my relationship sooner. “I didn’t want to learn from the TV, Nine.”

It was my fault.

My fault for thinking she wouldn’t care about my love life. She’s the one who left when I was nineteen. She wrote herself out of my story. Thinking those words sends a bitterness through me that I don’t like.

My phone rings out.

Banks and Sulli continue to stare at me like I’m making the wrong choice. Maybe I am.

“Fine,” I sigh. “I’ll be a sec.” I stand off the lounge chair we share, and I leave the warmth of the fire. The warmth of them. And I pace over to the cold iron patio table. Constellations twinkle overhead, a clear night, and I wonder if my mom is staring at the same stars in New York.

Not that far away, but she couldn’t feel further from me.

As soon as I call back, she answers on the first ring. “Nine,” she says in relief. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”

I wince. “I was working, Mom.” I wince harder. “I’m sorry.”

“You always work too hard.” She has a slight New York accent.

I slouch onto a cold patio chair. Across the pool, Banks and Sulli pretend not to watch, but in the firelight, I see their eyes clearly on me.

I breathe easier.

Comforted by the love of my girlfriend and metamour.

Resting my arms on my knees, I clutch the phone tight to my ear. I know she didn’t call to remind me of my work ethic. “Is everything okay?” I ask, feeling guilty this wasn’t the first thing out of my mouth. “How are you feeling?” No brain aneurysms.

If she had another one, I would’ve known about it. I’d hope she’d tell me.

Just like you told her about your relationship, Nine.

Guilt compounds heavier.

“I feel good.” She doesn’t elaborate. Doesn’t want me to worry, I think. “I have to ask you something serious.”

My head spins at that last word. Serious. Nothing has been too serious between us since my dad died. She’s made sure our relationship is all sunshine and butterflies.

Immediately, I rise from the chair and head towards the brick ledge that overlooks Philly. Wind sweeps me in a big gust. Closer to the edge of the roof, I can breathe better. “What is it?” I ask.

“Do you remember your cousin Frog?”

“Frog?” I scrunch my face.

“It’s a nickname.”

“I figured that.” Everyone calls my mom Mint. Apparently my grandma had a craving for mint ice cream while she was pregnant with my mom, and most Thai nicknames are given at birth. I never knew my grandma before she passed in her early fifties.

Never knew any of my cousins, so why is my mom asking me about Frog?

“And no,” I say, “I don’t remember Frog.”

“Kannika Kitsuwon?”

“No. Where would’ve I met her?”